The Recruit
by K. Chambers
Summary: A tale of dark comradeship recounting the formation of the Death Eaters. An ambitious witch sets out to join Voldemort's cause, but the lure of Dark Magic is insignificant to her own lust for status. Set after Tom Riddle leaves Hogwarts. Novel length.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**Hello new readers- welcome to The Recruit. It's a long and completed story but I've decided to put up a chapter every week. I really hope you enjoy it. Please read and review, and stick with it till the end, even if it's only to remind me every week that my story is awful- criticism is always welcome. Thank you for joining me- enjoy the ride...**_

**Chap****ter One- The Recruit**

Marla Voltaire struggled against the two thick pairs of arms that restrained her, cursing herself for not being more vigilant while making her way home through London. She opened her mouth to yell an incantation- hopelessly as her wand had been wrenched from her- but a hand clamped to her face muffled the hexes escaping her lips. She couldn't see her captives; her vision was blurred with blood. With a surge of effort, she attempted to free one of her arms but the troll like grasp was too strong. She didn't cease her struggling, but it was to no avail. She felt herself being dragged down the alley she had entered just moments ago, and to her horror, felt the rush of apparition, forced by the stark figures at either side of her.

With a loud "crack" her feet hit a new ground, hard but smooth, unlike the uneven stone outside her building, and a rush of warmth hit her from the nearby fireplace. She felt her hair fall about her face, as she thrust aimlessly in an attempt to free herself. Her silent captives shook her violently and the blood rushing to her brain made her too dizzy to move. Furiously, she stood still, vision still blurred. The hand moved from her face, freeing her mouth, and she took hold of the opportunity.

"What is going on?" she shouted, "I demand some answers! Who are you?" The grip of the two pairs of arms tightened painfully; she cried out in pain before speaking again. "Someone tell me what this is about!"

She breathed heavily, angry and fearful of her situation. The silence was only pierced by the sound of her breathing until she heard the footfalls of the figure turning to face her.

"Leave the room, Crabbe, Macnair," a clear male voice said calmly. She recognised that voice but in her confusion, it didn't register. The grip on her arms released and she hurriedly wiped the stinging blood from her eyes as heavy footsteps signalled the exit of her captives from the room. She blinked, seeing the darkened room for the first time, and the tall figure that stood by the fireplace, bathed in firelight. Marla watched him warily, feeling blood from the cut on her forehead seeping back down her face. The robed figure waved a long thin hand holding a wand in her direction and she felt the blood disappear and the cut heal. She brought her hand up to her face, and sure enough, there was no wound there. She felt her anger melting away.

"I've been looking forward to this," the figure said, turning away from her to look into the fire. "You're the one that got away."

Marla swallowed hard. "Tom?" She watched as Lord Voldemort continued to stare into the fire. It was the only source of light in the room. The curtains had not been drawn over the large windows and it was so dark outside, a less confused Marla would have wondered as why there where no street lamps outside. The room itself was lavishly furnished- a gleaming stone floor, richly patterned wallpaper, expensive looking ebony bookshelves and a matching desk, finely upholstered armchairs and a long, plush chaise longue with carved arms- but most surprisingly, rows and rows of leather-bound books, the likes of which she had not seen since her Hogwarts days.

"Do you like the house?" her old colleague asked, still looking away. Marla took several steps towards him.

"Tom, they took my wand- they just jumped me outside my home- they have my wand-" Marla hurried towards him, and stopped at the armchair closest to him, leaning against its back, her hands grasping the top of its ornately carved frame. "Tom, they have my wand!" she said urgently.

"I recently _acquired_ it from an old client of ours- you may remember- Hephzibah." He paused, waiting for a reaction. Marla frowned at him. Why wasn't he helping her?

"Tom, why am I here?" she asked warily. Voldemort moved effortlessly into a tall backed armchair opposite Marla. Half facing the fire, his features were framed with the rich firelight. What she saw took her breath away. He was still undeniably handsome but in the 3 short years that they had spent apart, he had achieved a wax-like quality to his skin, and his eyes, once so dark and telling, were now shallow and indecipherable.

"You're here because I requested for you," he said, his eyes fixed on her. "As I said, you're the one that got away." He smiled but it did not reach his eyes. He had developed a maniacal look about him that made her uneasy.

"If I remember correctly, Tom, it was you who left one day and didn't come back- in fact- you left after your assignment to Madam-"

"Hephzibah. Yes. Now her house- and all the treasures in it- are mine." Marla had opened her mouth to appeal to Voldemort for an explanation but at these words, the side of her that nursed rather a consuming hobby took over.

"Everything?" she breathed in amazement. "The woman had trinkets worth thousands of galleons. Thousands, Tom. You own them all?" She felt her excitement grow at the thought of the treasures that had lain in the eccentric collector's house.

"Yes," he replied softly. Marla felt herself grow wary. She walked around the armchair and sat down, positioning herself to face her old friend. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a match. She lit up, and looked searchingly at the figure before her. "Tom, why am I here?"

He stared at her, apparently sizing her up. "You're the one that got away," he said simply. "I summoned you here to right a wrong."

Marla shook her head. "I don't understand," she said, confused "Those men attacked me! They took my wand- smashed my head against my own front door- they ambushed me on my way home- I wasn't summoned ... I-"

He smiled. "My methods are unorthodox but effective. Your wand will be returned- after I have settled a matter with you."

"What matter?" Marla asked, warily.

"I require your services. I have a ... shall we say a task ... a goal ... and to assist me I require magical experience." He paused, apparently enjoying her expression. "You are a great witch, and your power is amplified by your knowledge. I have already gathered a ... team ... of wizards but I passed up the opportunity to gain your assistance once by leaving Borgin's so abruptly, I will not do it again."

"Tom... I'm just a treasure hunter..." she said slowly, "What possible assistance could I be?"

"We'll see shall we?" he said sharply, his tone changing. "And I don't go by my old name anymore. I won't have it, do you understand?"

Marla jumped at the anger surfacing in his face. "I apologise," she said, quickly remembering the name she would affectionately call him all those years ago, "I'm sorry, my Lord."

Voldemort stood up and moved to her. Taking her free hand in his, he pulled her up from her seat. "Don't leave the building for now. I'll summon you soon. _You_ will be great under my rule."

Marla looked at the face she remembered so well and it all came back to her. His ambition, his obsession, his goal to purify the world, his cruelty and his greatness. She flicked her cigarette into the fire. Humbled and overcome with admiration, she bowed her head in respect.

"Yes, my Lord."

_**That's it for Chapter One. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**Two chapters in one night- I like to update regularly :) Thankyou Whiskey in the Impala for the kind review. I'm very glad you liked it. Hope you stick with the story :)** _

**Chapter Two- Band of Thieves**

That night, Marla stayed in one of Hephzibah's elaborately furnished bedchambers. Sleep did not come to her easily though the house was silent.

Her mind wandered back to the day, four years ago, when Tom Riddle had begun working at Borgin and Burke's. She remembered being introduced to him as the establishment's greatest relic seeker. Burke had always prized her over the other treasure hunters for her gift of convincing the rich to part with their treasures, especially at the young age of seventeen. The truth was that rare magical artefacts had always intrigued her and so once she'd left Hogwarts after her OWL's, there was not another career that she'd consider.

She'd known Riddle at school, of course, being in the same year, but he'd been a quiet, studious boy with a close-knit group of loyal friends and though they had shared a common room, they spoke little. The time they spent together at the shop was the first that they had really spoken.

He'd changed by then. When he'd started at the shop, he'd become noticeably charming whereas at school she'd remembered him to be withdrawn. Though she had two years more experience than him, he had quickly overtaken her as Burke's favourite employee- an occurrence that bothered her little. For a start, she loved her time at the shop because it fuelled her obsession for dark relics- it had little to do with how the owners fawned over her for filling their money bags and shelves. Also, becoming their second favourite was a small price to pay for the companionship of such a remarkable figure- and Tom Riddle was indubitably remarkable. On the long evenings they spent together plotting on how to make old wizards part with their treasures, his stories and musings delighted her. She'd grown to realise that his fondness for magical artefacts was second only to hers. A particular conversation came to mind, and she smiled into her pillow.

_"The last time I held the sorting hat, I could have been standing with the four founders themselves." Tom said, smiling into his goblet. "It was as if the great wizards were standing over my shoulders. It actually hurt to set it down again."_

_"I know exactly what you mean." Marla replied, watching him drink deeply. "Every time I hand anything of importance over to Burke, my heart mourns for it. Things like the pearl necklace I have no regard for but when I'd finally made Wilding sell us Circe's chalice, I had half a mind to keep it for myself. I could have so easily transfigured it into something else and kept it, claiming to have failed purchasing it."_

_"Why didn't you?" Tom said, his eyes sparkling, relishing the thought of keeping such an important piece of history._

_"You know me well enough by now, my Lord." Marla said regretfully, "Can't lie, can't cheat- and I most certainly couldn't betray the trust of the men who gave me a job I cherish this much. It's a curse!" she laughed. "Still, it would have been incredible to keep it. One day, my Lord, I'll have a collection to rival Burke's."_

_Tom laughed and looked at her with mischief in his eyes. "I'm sure you will, __Marla__. And one day I'll be one of those great men whose treasures are worth seeking."_

_Marla__ set down her glass and planted her hands on her lap. "You will, my Lord," she said sincerely, "One day Lord Voldemort will be up there with Salazar himself."_

Marla rolled over, relishing the memory, and allowed her mind to race at the thought of things to come.

ooo

Early the next morning, a robed figure strode noisily into the room and made his way to Marla's bed. She awoke at the sound of footsteps and quickly pulled the covers up to her neck. Peering over the blanket she saw a tall man with tailored robes and a sleek, fur-lined travelling cloak. He stopped at the foot of her bed, looking at her; undeterred by the fact he had woken her up. His white blonde hair was slightly longer than was usual for the time- it fell around his ears and about the nape of his neck- and by the look of his face, he could not have been much older than her- perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four years old. Though undeniably handsome, he had a stern look about his eyes which aged him greatly, and his gloved hands clutched a gleaming silver handle from which protruded a pale wand. She recognised him from somewhere, but in the business that she worked, she met most wizarding families and knew many faces. He didn't smile as he spoke.

"The Dark Lord wishes for you to retrieve belongings from your home. Bring only what is necessary. He will be away for the rest of the week and expects you to be settled by Sunday. He has left instructions for you to be monitored at all times. I will accompany you to London." He waited expectantly.

Marla shifted uncomfortably. "Erm, " she said, unsure of what she thought of this stranger "In that case, do you think you turn away so I can get dressed?"

He sneered at her but acquiesced, and Marla gingerly climbed out of bed and moved over to the chair on which her clothes lay, never taking her eyes off the stranger's back. "So who are you?" she asked, stepping into her grey pencil skirt and zipping it up at the back.

"Abraxas Malfoy," he said, contempt apparent in is voice.

"Ah," said Marla, buttoning up her blouse. "Abraxas Malfoy, you can turn around now." She tucked her blouse into her skirt but instead of turning around, Malfoy strode to the door,

"Lets go." he said, turning the handle. Marla started.

"Hang on! I'm not ready." She said and hurried over to the dresser where a basin of warm water lay alongside a hand-towel. She washed quickly, all the time being watched by Malfoy. Looking into an ornate mirror hung on the wall, she checked her appearance. Her blouse was creased from being strewn on the chair all night and her hair, usually so sleek, hung past her shoulders, black and lifeless. Realising her skirt wasn't straight, she readjusted it; cursing how tight it was. In an age where skirts were big and fun, she preferred hers to cling to her thighs and skim below her knees- her opposition to follow muggle fashions was something she prided herself on.

"There," Malfoy said, exasperated, "now let's go."

Still evaluating herself in the mirror, Marla muttered "Ok" and turned slowly to pick up her travelling cloak. Instinctively, she reached for her wand, before remembering what had happened to it. Looking up at Malfoy, she asked, "Do you know where my wand is?"

Malfoy nodded and reached into his cloak, pulling out her cherished eleven inch oak wand. Marla took it from him gratefully and they left the room.

The house looked different in the wintry light of day. While Hephzibah's displayed trinkets still gleamed in their excellence, the corridors had lost their warmth. The grand staircase looked larger and colder and the parlour they entered seemed empty though it was filled with expensive pieces and a number of people Marla dimly recognised.

A thickset man in black robes sat in the corner, pouring over a copy of the Daily Prophet. A short, frowning man and a rather unattractive woman whose robes were adorned with a ministry logo were standing opposite the double doors through which they had just passed. A wizard in official looking black robes stood in front of them, with an innocent looking face that sported a frown. He appeared to have been pacing before they had entered. They all couldn't have been much older than her. She got the distinct impression of a group of young adults playing at being serious. The dull sound of dialogue ceased and the people in the room looked round to face Marla.

The man in official looking robes nodded at Marla then turned to Malfoy. "Took you long enough, Abraxas," he said, brow furrowed, "I have to be at work in ten minutes. The Minister is already on my back about tardiness." Abraxas ignored the comment, looking bored. The man continued. "Be back by lunch, do you understand? Don't let her out of your sight. The Dark Lord does not easily forgive carelessness."

"Go to work, Lowman," Malfoy drawled, "and don't tell me how to do my job. Everyone, this is our new recruit, Voltaire." He turned to Marla and tilted his head in the direction of the group. "This is Wilbur Lowman, Secretary to the Minister for Magic," he said in the same bored voice. "Those two there," he said signalling to the man and the woman sat together, "are Julian Crabbe, an Enforcer, and Genevieve Locke- she works in Muggle relations." The couple nodded and Locke added "-at the command of the Dark Lord-" as if to quash the thought that it was her choice of occupation. "Him in the corner," Malfoy continued, "that's Graham Macnair." The burly looking man with the paper nodded in her direction and realisation came to Marla.

"Macnair... Crabbe... it was you last night!" Her cheeks flushed in anger and she reached for her wand but Abraxas gripped her wrist, effortlessly restraining her. She didn't put up a fight.

"If you're looking for an apology, you're looking in the wrong place," he said simply. "No one apologises for obeying orders." She pulled her hand away from his and folded her arms in contempt. Lowman grimaced as he pushed past them and left.

Locke smiled mockingly. "She's feisty," she said to Abraxas, knowingly "Let's hope she lasts the week." She turned to Crabbe and grinned and he laughed cruelly.

Abraxas turned and left the room. Marla followed him out of the house onto a large driveway.

She could now understand why the Dark Lord had chosen this site for his usage. Beyond the driveway was a large length of grass surrounding the house, about the size of a quidditch pitch, and further on the outside world was hidden by an unnaturally large hedge and numerous trees that she suspected enclosed the expansive property. The grounds were beautiful, with flower beds running along either side of the wide carriage path and here and there, the splendidly tame garden boasted greenery that only magic could maintain. With the touch of uninfringeable privacy, the grounds were intoxicating. _Only Hephzibah could have pulled this off_, she thought, impressed.

Abraxas turned to her. "Where do you live?" he asked in his businesslike tone.

"London" she said simply "Coppice Side Tenements. It'd be safer to apparate directly into the building. I've no restrictions on it." Abraxas nodded and they apparated.

ooo

For the rest of the week, Abraxas stayed on Marla's tail. Far from finding it a hindrance, she appreciated his company and certainly preferred it to the other occupants of the house. Though the number of them in the house varied from day to day, she learnt there were seven in total. She quickly learnt they knew their master primarily from Hogwarts, though they were all older than him. They also knew him as "Lord Voldemort" which surprised her as she had always thought of it as her name for him. The way they said it bothered her. She'd always seen it as a sign of respect and devotion but they used it with fear, and rarely said "Voldemort" out loud, preferring "the Dark Lord".

With the exception of her venture home to pick up some belongings, Marla hadn't left the grounds of the house. She spent her time with Abraxas, walking the length of the gardens, smoking and speculating on the Dark Lord's plans. Three times a day the house elf would place a tray laden with food in her bedchamber and she would dine with Abraxas, preferring that to joining the others on the first floor drawing room. She had grown to dislike the others in the group Abraxas referred to as Death Eaters.

"Death Eaters?" she asked on her second night. They were sat in her allocated bedchamber at a table they'd moved to the fireplace, working through their roast chicken supper. Abraxas had brought a bottle of German white, expressing his inability to enjoy food in the evening without wine. They were on the topic of how the Dark Lord had formed his group of followers. "Is it meant to be ironic?" She brought the crystal glass up to her lips and took a sip. Abraxas grinned knowingly.

"The Dark Lord and I were at school- must have been my seventh year, his fifth- and Slughorn invited us up, as he usually did, for a nightcap. It was us and Crabbe, Macnair, Avery, Lestrange, a boy called Goyle- he's in Tunisia now- and a boy called Barker. He used to run with us. He died last year. Don't know quite what happened to him." He pushed his plate away and reached for his wine glass. "Slughorn would go on about all sorts of inconsequential things. He loved our master and liked to know what he thought of things. I expect it's understandable, Slughorn could tell even then a great wizard from a weak one, but he would really go on and on. He wouldn't stop. And one day he was talking about a murder. You know what it was like, after the Great War, people started disappearing and dying and no one knew why. They thought it was Grindlewald all over again. Slughorn was on about a woman in England, obviously killed by a wand, but no one knew whose. He wouldn't shut up about this murder. Went on and on about it as if the Dark Lord could figure it out for him. Obviously we just sat and nodded and drank-" Abraxas lit up a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. "But then Slughorn said something that struck a chord with the Dark Lord. He said something like _"Boys, there are monsters out there who feed on the lives of others- and I don't mean magical creatures- I mean men- monstrous men. These men know the significance of taking a life and don't care about the consequences. That's freedom, boys- it is indeed- but it comes at a terrible price. The murderer is free, but he's accursed."_ If Slughorn was trying to shock us it didn't work. Mention the word freedom to a 15 year old brought up by pure-bloods and expect attention. To us, it sounded liberating but a million miles away. The Dark Lord, on the other hand, has the inexplicable ability to get what he wants and Slughorn's story gave him a goal- freedom-"

"From what?" Marla interjected.

"I couldn't tell you," Abraxas said regrettably, "That's a mystery to me too, but it fuelled something fierce in him. He told us he couldn't remove Slughorn's word from his head- _feed on the lives of others-_" He took a drag on his cigarette and flicked it into the fire. "_"That'll be me,"_ he'd say to us, and we promised him we'd be there standing by him. _"We'll feast with you,"_ we'd say and he'd laugh and say we'd feast on death together when we were free men. It became a drug for us, the goal of freedom- and now here we are, Death Eaters." He smiled, as he lifted his glass to his lips, but there was sadness about his eyes.

"That was it- your goal- freedom from control?" Marla asked incredulously.

Setting down his glass, Abraxas shook his head. Marla refilled it for him. "Freedom from control developed into freedom to control," he answered. "As we grew, we saw the world for what it was and it horrified us. We are all controlled- controlled by our fear of exposing magic to muggles; of taking magic too far; of venturing into unknown magical territory. We are wizards- men far too superior to have to restrain our magic. This mentality is a curse on wizarding-kind and if we have to feast on death to free our magic, so be it." He drank deeply from his glass before continuing. "Ancient magic runs in my veins. It would be an insult to not fulfil its potential. The rubbish about controlling magic is the invention of Mudbloods and the weak. They deserve to be stripped of the little magic they have."

Marla pushed back her chair, and lifting her glass off the table, she repositioned herself on the floor next to the fire. Abraxas joined her, bringing the bottle and causing the table and chairs to float back to the wall with his wand. He refilled her glass before emptying the contents of the bottle into his own. Marla pushed the dark hair out of her eyes and look into the fire.

"So tell me, am I a Death Eater now?" she asked.

"That's of no consequence. Just don't disappoint the Dark Lord and you'll do fine." Abraxas said, wisely.

Marla stayed quiet. _Somehow_, she thought to herself, _I think there might be more to it than that._

_**What do we think? Review please! Thankyou for reading! And I'm a big fan of people who review after every chapter- even if its just to say "hi" or "didn't like that bit!" To summarise- please review fanficcers!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**Thankyou once again to my star reviewer, Whiskey in the Impala, who's in depth analysis makes this all worthwhile.**_

_**Please remember to review, readers! The story is finished and will be updated weekly but I'd be very grateful for reviews! Enjoy Chapter Three!**_

**Chapter Three- Progression**** of Power**

Sunday came and went and yet nearing midnight there was still no sign of the Dark Lord's arrival. Marla had spent the day, along with the other Death Eaters, eagerly awaiting his return, and so by eleven that night they found themselves gathered in the house's main parlour on the ground floor, huddled together in silence- waiting.

This room was the largest of the house's four drawing rooms. Marla recognised it as the one she had been brought to for her audience with the Dark Lord on her first night. She moved over to the ornate fireplace and lit up a cigarette. Everyone was here tonight, with the exception of Macnair who had been summoned by Lord Voldemort's patronus the previous day. Abraxas, Crabbe, Lowman and Locke sat in silence and Lestrange and Avery stood by one of the large windows, peering outside. Marla watched the Death Eaters, noting their apparent dread and apprehension. She smiled inwardly- they really feared the Dark Lord. _Well good,_ she thought, _it would be an insult to him if they didn't._

Her thoughts were interrupted as the double doors leading into the parlour burst open and the Dark Lord strode through, furious. Macnair entered hurriedly after him, and shut the doors behind him. He had the distinct look of a man hexed. His huge figure flinched in pain as he moved over to lean on the back of Abraxas's armchair. The Death Eaters were all standing, heads bowed and eyes directed pointedly at the floor. Marla watched her master move over to the fireplace so she threw in her cigarette and moved away to give him space.

"Fuck!" he roared, slamming his palm into the wall. He spun around and caught Marla's eye. She looked at him in alarm.

"What happened?" she asked, starting to move towards him but thinking better of it.

But instead of answering, he drew out a cigarette and lit up. Marla understood the why the Death Eaters had been apprehensive- he had a look of desperation etched on his face that made Marla so uneasy, she may as well have been standing by a ticking bomb. "They recognised my Patronus." He breathed, shooting Macnair a dirty glance. Macnair cowered slightly under his gaze. "They were waiting for me- the bastards! I didn't manage to retrieve the item I wanted." He shook his head again and Marla watched his hands form white knuckled fists. Curiosity took over, and throwing caution to the wind, she asked, "And what was the item? Where were you trying to retrieve it from?" The moment the words had left her mouth, she regretted them. He shot her a filthy look and left the room without another word. The other Death Eaters stirred slightly.

A moment passed in a silence, which was broken by Locke moving over to her looking furious. Without warning, she smacked Marla forcefully and waiting till she had composed herself again sneered "You do not speak out of line- not to the Dark Lord." She left the room too, and the other Death Eaters followed her. Abraxas moved to leave, then reconsidering it, sat back down.

"I know you used to work with him," he said after a moment of gathering his thoughts, "but the only way to stay safe now will be if you learn your place. Nothing good can come of insolence."

Marla shook her head. "I can't believe this," she said, "why are you all afraid of him? How can you expect him to respect you if you cower in his presence?"

Abraxas smiled at her naivety. "He respects our loyalty. That's all that matters."

"Yeah well it's not good enough," Marla spat, "Macnair had to be summoned and he lost the Dark Lord something that could have helped us all. We should do something about that at least."

"I think by the look of Macnair, the Dark Lord has already seen to that." Abraxas's eyes sparkled at the thought.

"That's not what I meant. Here we are- an organisation where discretion is crucial and we have no subtle method of communication." She lit up a cigarette.

"We could do with phones," said Abraxas, then looking at her confused face explained "They're devices that ring so muggles can communicate with each other." She raised an eyebrow at his suggestion.

"I meant discreet, Abraxas." She said, beginning to pace, "we don't need ringing, we need something silent, something we can feel!" She looked at Abraxas who was frowning in thought. "We need something that will signal to us when the Dark Lord wants us- and I know a charm like that could exist! At the shop, all of our darker items were jinxed so that if we needed to hide them, we had only to charm one to invisibility and all of them would be charmed."

"That's the Protean Charm," Abraxas said slowly.

"-Never heard of it."

"Well that's what it is. I don't know if it'll work with humans... and it only works with dead objects... won't work on human flesh..."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, because human flesh isn't a dead object, it's alive." He said irritably, wringing his hands, trying to think of a way around this, but Marla was already there.

"Then we kill a small part of us," she said grinning, "just a small wound... burn it so it can never heal, and we'll have our dead flesh. The Dark Lord touches one and we all know we're being summoned."

Abraxas looked up at her, eyes sparkling. "That might actually work." he said moving towards her. His face slowly changed as he examined her. He put his hands on each of her arms and Marla felt herself shrink under his penetrating gaze. She hesitated before trying to pull her arm away but before she could, Abraxas had effortlessly restrained her and whipped out his wand. Muttering at her left forearm, he held her still while her skin began burning and fizzing. She cried out in pain, unable to look away from the mark appearing on her skin. The blood was replaced by open flesh which began to heal itself around the form of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. Abraxas let go, and Marla fell to her knees, breathless. She examined her arm- "This- argh... it hurts- ... but ... it's ... wow," she breathed, "Your turn now."

Abraxas nodded and rolled up his sleeve. Pointing the wand at his arm, he muttered the same incantation and barely winced as the mark formed on his forearm. Marla examined her own- "What is this?" she asked.

"The Dark Mark," he replied, calmly inspecting his own. "We made it up at Hogwarts."

"It's scary," Marla said, impressed. "I like it."

Abraxas grinned at her. "When do we tell the Dark Lord?" he asked.

"Now," Marla replied eyeing the door. "I want to tell him now. On my own if you don't mind Abraxas."

Something flashed behind Abraxas's eyes but he acquiesced and she took the staircase two at a time, reaching the double doors leading to Lord Voldemort's chambers. She grinned inwardly as she knocked on the door. It opened in silence and she walked in tentatively. The room was much like hers but bigger and darker, lit by two dim wall lamps. Her master stood by the window, in long bottoms and an untied dressing robe. Marla smiled sadly at the sight of the Dark Lord in such normal attire, with a look of anguish on his face. He turned to her, expectantly.

"We've done something for you." She said, eyeing his expression. "Something I think you'll appreciate."

The Dark Lord shook his head and scowled. "I doubt that very much," he muttered darkly. His face suddenly resembled the 17 year old Tom she remembered so well.

Undeterred, Marla showed him her bare forearm. "It's for you."

He walked over to her, and took her arm. Holding it up to his face, he registered the Dark Mark. "You've branded yourself?" he asked.

"No, we all have," she said enthusiastically, "well, what I mean to say is that we all will. My mark has been charmed with the Protean Charm-"

"Just tell me later," he cut in, and sat on his bed. There was something in the way his feet were planted firmly on the floor, in the way his legs were separated, in the way his dressing robe fell open exposing his chest that made Marla smile appreciatively to herself. His face was in his hands and as she moved over to sit by him, he lay back, closing his eyes. Marla lay down next to him, propping herself up on her elbow. Looking down at his face, she realised how far away he seemed, though there was barely three inches between their noses. She inhaled deeply, intoxicated by his presence.

"You know, Burke was devastated when you left," Marla said to his closed lids, "said he'd offer you the world to come back to us. We never did make quite as much without you." She paused for a reaction and when it didn't come, she added "You have a gift about you- you can make people give up things for you." Tom stirred and opened his eyes and Marla felt, as she so often used to feel when he looked at her like that, as though he was stripping her down to just her thoughts. He turned his face to hers.

"Is that what you're doing here then?" he asked, his expression softening. "Are you here to give up your life for me?" He smiled and Marla knew she saw her old colleague return to the weary face. She carefully worded her answer.

"It's more like," she said slowly, "like I'm giving up a drab life for something worth fighting for." She relaxed her arm and lay down, eyes pointed to the ceiling but not seeing it. Her master looked incredulously at her.

"You don't really give a damn about the cause." He said bluntly. "You never really have- but then why is it that you've been here for four days and you've still not dug through Hephzibah's collection." He lifted himself to look down at her. His eyes were earnest and searching.

"What makes you think all I care about is treasure?" she asked, mock affronted. She had originally bonded with her master over their mutual obsession and he would tease her good naturedly at how little gold her passion earned her.

"So why are you here then?" he asked without hesitation. Marla looked at him and he seemed too serious for her to feel entirely comfortable.

"At first, it was Hephzibah's house..." she said slowly.

"-but you haven't touched a thing." His tone was accusatory but Marla decidedly missed it.

"No but I got distracted. Malfoy has been on my back all week anyway so I've not had a chance to do much."

"What have you been doing?"

"What have you been doing?" Marla shot back.

Her master rolled his eyes. "I asked first. What have you done all week?"

Marla collected her thoughts. "After seeing you again, I've just waited for you to return. I want to know what you've been doing and how you've been- and why you disappeared without a word of goodbye." She paused but he stayed silent, watching her. "All I've been doing is talking about you, hearing about you, "-she lifted her forearm so the Dark Mark was visible "- trying helping you. Malfoy's told me stuff about the Death Eaters and what you've all done and I've just been trying to find my place in it."

"-and?" Voldemort asked.

"I don't know- I think the others resent my being here. They don't feel I'm much use to them. Malfoy says you've to just grit your teeth and tolerate it but I wouldn't be surprised if Locke hexed me anytime soon. I only speak to Malfoy."

Her master nodded and seemed deep in thought as he looked away.

"My Lord?" she asked tentatively.

He grunted in response. Carefully, she asked "Why did you want me to be here?"

He rolled over onto his side, then sat up. She followed him up, stretched her arms and lit a cigarette.

"I've got an assignment for you but now isn't the time for it."

Marla's eyes widened in excitement. "What kind of assignment?" she asked. Her master shook his head and asked her to leave but she refused to.

"Marla-"he said exasperatedly and she realised she had overstepped the boundary. "-Marla you have to stop this- I can't be the boy I was when we worked together. We're on the brink of a war and if you don't accept my authority, I can't protect you."

Marla didn't understand what was going on. What war? Who did she need protecting from? She stopped herself from asking the endless list of questions that were forming in her mind and instead sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clutching the sheets, mouth gaping slightly trying to form words she hadn't formulated yet. Her master put a cold hand on her shoulder and got up to stand in front of her.

"I'm leaving for a while," he said resolutely, "I don't know how long for but there are things I need to prepare before we can make our next move." Marla looked up at him, appalled. He continued, slightly put off. "I need a second in charge and it is you I had in mind."

Marla's eyes widened. "Why?" she asked incredulously.

Her master smiled sadly at her. "Who else do I know takes care of treasures that don't belong to her out of duty to magic?" He squeezed her shoulder slightly. "I need you to build me an army of capable wizards- from all decent walks of magic. Malfoy has the mind of a general, even in his private life- he'll help you on the force front but I need you to protect my work till I return."

Marla nodded wordlessly and made to leave the room.

"Marla," Voldemort said as an afterthought, "Tell no one but Malfoy. There is treachery among the Death Eaters. "

Marla nodded and left the room, her mind reeling.

Abraxas was at the top of the staircase. Noticing the look on her face, he nodded over to the direction of her room. She followed him there in silence.

_**What do we think of Marla Voltaire's character? Should Voldemort trust her? Review please!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**Thank you for the reviews: Whiskey in the Impala- to clarify the story is completed and written up on my computer but I have decided to post them up on this website in instalments (gives me a chance to make ammendments if reviewers want to make suggestions- hint hint reviewers!) **_

_**Jadzania- wie gehts:) I've always been fascinated about post Hogwarts Tom Riddle too- glad you liked the first few chapters. Thank you for the lovely review. deises Kapitel ist fur dich! Hope I got that right- has been a long time since I studied Deutsch!**_

**_To all my readers, please review, your input is invaluable and will help greatly with my next __fanfic__. We've got 100 hits- celebration time! But whats that... only four reviews? Please review readers! Sorry there's no Voldemort in this one but he'll reappear soon. Thank you for letting me share this story with you all, K. Chambers._**

**Chapter Four- A Union of Sorts**

"He's leaving us," Marla said hoarsely, as Abraxas brought her drink over to her armchair. She took it appreciatively and sipped it, fighting the urge to splutter as she realised what she had expected to be wine was Witter's Fire-whisky. Her mind reeled at her conversation just moments ago with the Dark Lord and she was left with an increasingly sharp sting of abandonment. She'd asked Abraxas to stay with her for a short while. It may have been late but tense and unsure, Marla needed to relieve the pressure on her mind and make sense of what was happening. Abraxas sat on the window seat in front of her. It was pitch black outside and the reflection of the flames from the fire danced on the glass behind him. He brought his foot up onto the seat and leaned on that knee, absentmindedly swirling the contents of his own glass.

"Where's he going?" he asked slowly, frowning.

Marla shrugged. "You don't seem surprised, Abraxas." Abraxas shook his head.

"I'm not;" he said frankly, "The Dark Lord wants action and progress- he won't stick around when there's a lull on the front line. Do you know where he's going?" Marla shrugged as she brought her drink to her lips and drained her drink. Abraxas summoned the crystal decanter over and got up to refill her glass.

"Did he say who we answer to without him?" he asked her, but Marla thought he already knew the answer. She didn't reply, instead deciding to finish her drink and examine the fine crystal glass in her hands. As she glanced down, she noticed her hands were shaking. Abraxas watched her.

"So we answer to you," he said eventually. He sighed and refilled his own drink.

"You don't," Marla said, remembering her master's words. "You answer to him like me. He said something about you knowing about force or being a general and that we aren't to tell anyone until he does." Going over the conversation in her head, her mind skipped to the Dark Lord's last words- _There is treachery among the Death Eaters_

"Abraxas, he thinks there's a spy or something among the Death Eaters."

Abraxas nodded. "There is- well I think so too anyway- keep this silent... but what do you think of Lowman?"

Marla didn't understand what he meant. "He's arrogant, but do you really think he has it in him to be a traitor? Are you sure Abraxas?"

Abraxas smiled and his eyes flashed. "There's something about him... his motives... his background... it doesn't quite fit."

"What do you mean his background?"

"We didn't know him at school but he sought us out a couple of years ago. He had a relatively high ranking job at the Ministry for someone of his age and he's clever. I just don't believe he would want to jeopardise that for our cause. He's well-connected with the Enforcement Department and though he gives us valuable information, I think he's waiting for a big scoop to get him a name for himself at the Ministry. I don't trust anyone who plays both sides."

Marla got up and walked over to the window. As she refilled her glass, Abraxas moved his leg and, their shoulders brushing slightly, she sat beside him. "I don't know anything about building an army," she said, avoiding his eye. Abraxas shrugged.

"I doubt it'll be important. The Dark Lord will have a reason for wanting you in this position." He drained his glass and put it down. "Hope you're prepared for the resistance you're going to face from the others because of this." He smiled and his eyes shone as he taunted her.

Marla laughed wearily. "Lets not get ahead of ourselves," she said, "I don't want to be thinking about how to get those apes to answer to me right now."

She got up and walked the length of the room, stopping at the mirror above her dresser. She began to comb her hair, whilst scanning the table top for something to tie it back with. Glancing in the mirror, she caught Abraxas's eye as he watched her. Something flashed behind his eyes and his expression quickly changed. Abraxas got up and brought the decanter and his glass over to the sideboard. Marla's breaths became shallow as she watched him.

"I'm going to go," he said to her disappointment as she walked over to him. Marla frowned at him and shook the decanter playfully in the air.

"It's still half full, Abraxas," she said light-heartedly, "Stay, enjoy... please?" She grinned at him and saw his resolve melt away slightly. "Oh please, Abraxas," she implored, "I don't want to be alone."

Marla looked up at him and registered his strange expression. She took a step closer, her breathing quickening as his scent enveloped her. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. For the first time since she had met him, Marla was hesitating. Abraxas watched her; she felt a previously unmatched intimacy grow between them under his unfathomable expression. Pulse racing, the decanter slipped from Marla's fingers and with the sound of glass hitting rug, Abraxas pushed her against the wall and kissed her hard.

Marla felt a release of tension in Abraxas's arms and allowed him explore her body with his eager hands. She ran her fingers through his blonde hair as she kissed him back ardently. His lips moved from her mouth to her ear, her jaw, her neck, biting her. Gripping her thighs, he pulled her up onto his narrow hips and as she wrapped her legs firmly around him, he carried her over to the fireplace.

ooo

The flames in the fireplace were still high but Marla's heart rate was quickly slowing to its normal rate. She lay naked in Abraxas's arms, warm from the fire. His eyes were closed and he breathed deeply. Marla could tell his mind was spinning. After all, hers was. Their moment of passion had left her breathless and completely satisfied. The tension of the past week had melted away and the electric union of their bodies left Marla's worries slowly ebbing away. Ecstasy replaced anxiety and tension- relief by the name of Abraxas Malfoy.

She turned to him and ran an adoring hand over his smooth chest. At her touch Abraxas flinched and pushing her away slightly, he stood up and his eyes scanned the room for his clothes. Marla looked up at him in horror, suddenly realising her naked and vulnerable state.

As he fastened his trousers, Marla, mortified, got up and donned her night robe. She felt tears stinging behind her eyes and a lump the size of her fist constricting her throat. Just moments ago she was entwined in the arms of a man she admired but now the icy rejection chilled her. Choking back a sob she forcefully tied her robe around her middle. "Abraxas?"

It hurt her to see the look of regret on his face as he turned around to face her. He was across the room from her with her great bed separating them but in the firelight, she saw discomfort in his eyes- an eagerness to leave. He glanced down at himself and she followed his eyes to his naked torso and his belted trousers. He rubbed his neck, uneasy, and looked at her sorrowfully.

"No one can know." He said tersely, then left.

_**Sorry it was so short! Chapter Five is ready to go up soon!**_

_**If you are one of my readers who are following this story but haven't yet reviewed, please do! I would absolutely adore a review at the end of each chapter! I respond to each review personally and am forever grateful for all of them. Please don't be a lurker, reading my fic and not throwing in your judgemental comments! Reviews make me write and make me happy!**_

_**I'd love to hear what you think of my writing so here are some topics I'd like your opinions on: **_

_**1) Marla's character- what do you think of her now and how do you think she'll develop? **_

_**2) Abraxas's character- what do you think of him and who do you prefer, Abraxas or Marla? **_

**_3) Voldemort and Marla together? Repulsive notion or great plot__line? _**

_**4) My writing style and the tone of this story? Am I canon enough for you hardcore fans (like myself) and what should I work on?**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**Jadzania**__**- There's a German reference in here for you- see if you can spot it. Thanks for reviewing everyone- more reviews will make me very happy!**_

**Chapter Five- Absent Leaders**

Marla Voltaire stalked through the thicket, unaccustomed to working in such close proximity to wild plant life. Wand out, she wrapped her robes tightly around her and peered into the clearing of the wood. In the moonlight, she could just about make out the dark figure of a man. He seemed disorientated, stumbling here and there without making towards any definite destination. She smiled to herself at her ability to capture even the rarest of jewels.

"Imperio!" she yelled and the figure stood motionless. Excellent. Her plan was panning out just as she had anticipated. She strode over to him and checked his demeanour. His eyes were glazed and body limp. The spell had worked. Glancing around, she whispered orders to the body and was pleased to see that it did not put up any resistance to her commands.

"Appreciate you making this easy for me, Minister," she smirked and Disapperated to the Manor, limp Minister in tow.

ooo

Only Crabbe was in when she reached the house. He flinched in shock as he saw her distinguished captive. Ignoring him, Marla seated the Minister for Magic in the drawing room and turned to Crabbe.

"Where is everyone?" she asked. Crabbe glanced from the minister to her several times before letting on that they were out on orders. Leaving her hostage with Crabbe, Marla moved to the drinks cabinet.

So she wasn't the only one with an assignment. The secrecy of their orders was vital but she prayed that the others wouldn't bring back news that would please the Dark Lord as much as her accomplishment. It was important that she stay close to him- closer to him than the rest.

Marla leaned against the cabinet, drinking deeply from the glass. Crabbe was looking uncertain, eyeing the Minister. Marla cocked an eyebrow. "Imperious Curse, Crabbe, never seen it before?" She smirked at his confusion.

"You..." stuttered Crabbe, "He was our assignment- me and Locke's! What were you thinking, taking our-"

"Save it, Crabbe," Marla cut in, "It's my job to clean up after you lot. An attempt on Minister Macmillan by you two and we might as well hand ourselves in. Not hugely subtle, your methods, are they?"

Crabbe scowled. "How'd you get close to him anyway?" he barked, changing the subject.

_Easy._ Marla almost answered him but thought better of it, "When's everyone back? Where's Malfoy?"

But Crabbe wasn't finished. "Why did you bring him here? We were never told to do that."

Seeing that Crabbe was too fixated on yet another of his failures, Marla left the room, summoning the Minister to follow her.

ooo

Marla hadn't seen Abraxas at the Manor for three days. Though she had spent the last half of the week stalking the Minister, she had missed him during the few hours she spent at the house. The last time she had seen him, he had informed her of their latest assignment.

"The Dark Lord wants us to track down some wizards." He had said not meeting her eye.

Ignoring his unease, Marla looked at the list of seven wizards Abraxas had handed to her. "The wizards of Blake..." she muttered to herself, "... all well known... all missing..." She nodded and pocketed her copy of the list. "Who shall we start with?" she had asked, looking up at Abraxas who was now exiting the room.

"You take the first three, I'll take the rest," he had said as he closed the door behind him.

But later that day, Marla was given information that caused her assignment to pale into insignificance.

"What were you looking for?" she had asked the Voldemort as she sat with him in his bed chambers. He was pouring through piles of parchment, every now and again summoning an owl or a cigarette. He had been sending letters and going through Ministry reports (stolen for him by Lowman) all afternoon. "You know- the assignment Macnair messed up. What did you ask him to get for you?"

"Macmillan," he replied, distractedly searching for a quill. She sat on his bed, legs crossed, watching him work. "Macnair had him in sight but he summoned me there anyway... something about not being able to get close to him. How hard is it to get close enough to a man to hex him?" He rubbed his temple at the memory. "Anyway, they saw his patronus, they saw mine... they knew it was me and fled. One man, one curse ... and Macnair messed it up. They'll think we are a bigger threat now too."

Marla looked disgusted. "They all know it was you ... they recognised you and Macnair? The security around him will be doubled."

"That's Crabbe's problem now." Voldemort grunted and carried on working, but Marla was formulating a plan in her head. She knew how to get the Dark Lord what he wanted, and she would do it without incriminating her master in the process.

ooo

The Death Eaters gathered in the parlour on Sunday night, waiting for Voldemort's arrival. It was the first time in days that Marla had seen Abraxas- he looked haughty and cold and she strongly suspected he was purposely avoiding her gaze. She shrugged off the feeling of foreboding his demeanour instilled in her and instead cast her mind to the prisoner she had locked away in the wine cellar just hours ago. As she smiled, the doors burst open and Voldemort strode in. He stood by the empty grate, tossed of his travelling cloak and conjured a fire. Huddling over the roaring flames, he turned his followers. "What have we got?"

Abraxas stepped forward. "My Lord," he began "I have tracked down four of the seven wizards and am waiting for your signal to approach them. The other three, I suspect will take longer to locate." He shot Marla a filthy look.

"Four? That's good. That's very good." Voldemort nodded, "And the Azkaban guard?" he asked, turning to Lowman, who stepped forward and gave his account of the protection of the prison. Voldemort nodded, taking in the information and sizing up Lowman's efforts. "How many to Confound the guard force?" he asked, assessing his Death Eater.

"All of us," replied Lowman, head bowed, "And perhaps more. And before we can even try, there are precautions that need to be dealt with. These aren't just dementors, my Lord, the Head of Protection has cast wards that can only be broken with-"

"-his neck." Voldemort finished with relish, "See to it."

Lowman mumbled "Yes, my Lord," and stepped back. Voldemort turned to Marla who was fiddling with her sleeve in anticipation as she began to speak. "My Lord, I have-" but Voldemort silenced her with a look and indicated towards her forearm.

"You never explained what it was for- how it worked." He said, examining the mark from across the room. Marla made towards him, arm stretched out, and let him take it in both his hands. She hoped the others were watching as he caressed the black skull and tilted his head slightly.

"Abraxas has one too," Marla said, looking up at her master. "If you touch it, his will hurt too- they're linked."

Voldemort gave Abraxas a sideways glance. Abraxas jammed up his sleeve to show his matching mark, his teeth clenched.

"Brand everyone." Voldemort said quietly and moved over to the drinks cabinet to pour himself some whiskey from a crystal decanter. He watched as Abraxas drew his wand and gave each Death Eater the Dark Mark- Crabbe, Avery, Lestrange, Lowman, McNair, Locke. He then reached for Marla's arm and pressed his thumb hard against the skull. All seven other Death Eaters winced in pain. Satisfied, he handed his empty glass to Marla, and refilled it with a flick of his wand. "Thank you," he said to her, and then moved back over to the fireplace. "If you feel it burn, you Apparate to me directly," he said addressing the room. "Crabbe, what happened with the Minister?"

Crabbe made to speak, but Marla cut in. "We have him, my Lord" she said, pleased at the glint in his eye her words had triggered, "He's locked in the cellar under my Imperious Curse."

"Excellent," Voldemort said, eyes sparkling, "How did you capture him?"

Marla smiled, glancing at Crabbe, and explained. "It was quite simple, my Lord. I knew he was untouchable on Ministry business so I targeted him at home. Of course the Minister for Magic would have wards up around his house so he'd have to leave to Apparate. It's why I never put up wards around my flat- much simpler to Apparate straight out. I learnt he left his house every morning and walked to a small wooded area his garden backed into. He Apparated to work from the same spot every morning. There are usually guards with him when he's Apparating to work, but today's Sunday and I knew he wouldn't be going to the Ministry. I Confounded him as he left his home then performed the Curse when he had wandered further into the woods. Then I brought him straight here."

Voldemort grinned. Marla saw her old Tom Riddle in his face and her heart warmed. "I knew I had to have you as my Death Eater," he said quietly to her, ignoring the rest of the room who watched uncomfortably. "I knew it was you I was missing. Voltaire the Treasure Hunter. Brilliant and loyal to her master." He smiled at her and his eyes flashed. "You will be handsomely rewarded." Marla's breath became shallow as she smiled back at her master. "Lowman," Voldemort barked still looking at her, "Voltaire will take her Curse off MacMillan, then he's yours to control. Send him home with an excuse for his disappearance and watch over him at work. Ensure he does as I say and no suspicions are roused." Marla's face dropped.

"But, my Lord," she said quickly, "Don't you think I should keep my Curse on the Minister, seeing as-"

"Lowman can handle it," Voldemort replied.

Marla caught Abraxas's eye but he looked wholly unsympathetic. She sat down, utterly put out. Voldemort moved to the middle of the room and addressed his Death Eaters.

"Anything else?" Voldemort asked, looking around. There was silence. "Of course not," he sighed. "Locke, Crabbe- I won't waste my time giving you an assignment in the future as you will clearly unload the burden on another of my subjects." The two Death Eaters looked pointedly at the floor. "You both will go back to work tomorrow with Lowman who will be keeping an eye on you. A word of advice- it's never wise to seem so dispensable- not around me."

He considered them for a moment with disgust etched onto his face. Marla felt a rush of warmth for her master, and smirked as he continued.

"With MacMillan finally under our control," he said, "we will have complete control over the Ministry- but things are going to be run as usual for now." His followers looked up at him confused. Wasn't this now an opportunity to come out in the open? "Before we make any rash moves, we have to prepare." Voldemort said, looking pointedly at Abraxas, "We're on the brink of a war with those who cheapen our gift. With a few select tools, we can free magic once and for all. We need the seven wizards of Blake," he glanced at Abraxas who nodded back, "and several other wizards and witches of great power. At this moment, many of our prospective allies are imprisoned. You will break them out- Azkaban first." Marla was taken aback at this revelation and glanced at Abraxas who didn't react. _He already knew,_ she thought and cursed herself for not being told the same information earlier- it seemed she was not yet as close to the Dark Lord as Abraxas was and this pained her. "I will not be there," Voldemort continued. "I am venturing to Lithuania. The Quedlingburg prison hosts an ally I shall retrieve personally. Lestrange and Avery will assist me." They nodded blankly. "Failure to collect your charges from Azkaban will result in my extreme displeasure." He glared at Macnair at these words then motioned for everyone to leave. As an afterthought, he added "Ah, and in my absence, you will answer to Voltaire." The Death Eaters stopped in their tracks, mouthing wordlessly at him, clearly appalled. Marla glanced at Abraxas who was looking pointedly away. "Stay behind a while, Malfoy," Voldemort said quietly as the others filed into the hallway.

As they were leaving, Marla lip curled as she noticed Abraxas whispering darkly, Voldemort's brow furrowing as he listened. She made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber with Abraxas in mind, fuming.

_**You know the drill, readers- reviews make this author happy! So we've got the first big meeting the Lord Voldemort scene- sound evil and cunning enough for you all? Reviews on the tone of the narrative, characterisation and**__** plot would be greatly appreciated- or just drop a line to say hi:)**__****_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**Here's Chapter Six- early as usual, because I'm so grateful to my regular readers! Thank you **__**Wolfgirl24-7**__** for your message- **__**hope**__** you stick with the story. Also, thank yo**__**u to my beta **__**readers**__** Whiskey in the Impala and H. Merrill for their unwavering support and harsh criticism!**__** Enjoy Chapter Six! Please remember to review!**_

**Chapter Six- Cause and Consequences**

Marla paced across the bedchamber, fuming. Abraxas, with his mathematical mind and calculated actions, was still higher in Voldemort's favour than herself.

_Does he really deserve to be? Abraxas... he shouldn't know more than I know- not when it comes to the Dark Lord- he's trying to usurp my place_ _after what happened with us..._

The thought flitted through her mind and she disregarded it quickly. She had given up a lot to be with Lord Voldemort- to stand by his side and help him achieve his dreams. She'd not turned up for work for a few weeks now, and she darkly suspected, that though Borgin would be convinced with any excuse she gave on her return, she would not frequent the old shop as she once had. She had left her home, bringing only a few necessary possessions with her to the Manor. She wasn't earning anymore; she wasn't independently living anymore; she had given up everything she knew to be at Tom's side once again- only to be second to Abraxas Malfoy. She paused by the window and peered out over the gardens. She had lost her old friend once- she intended to keep herself rooted by his side, whatever the cost may be.

ooo

_Tom sighed and looked out of her grimy window. "I need to know where they are, Marla.__ I want you to help me find them," h__e said slowly. He handed her back the empty mug of tea and she moved to the sink and dropped it with a CLANG onto a growing pile of dirty dishes. She sat back down onto the sagging armchair and lit up a cigarette. _

_"I could tell you where to start, Tom" she said regretfully, "but something that has been missing for so long is nearly impossible to locate." She watched as Tom turned to her, anger apparent in his expression. _

_"Impossible?" he muttered to himself, and Marla could see he hated being so powerless._

_"__I didn't say impossible, Tom," she said, smiling, "nearly impossible, I said. There's a difference." She saw Tom look up at her expectantly. "Something that's impossible to find- well no one has a chance of finding..." she watched as Tom smiled, apparently anticipating her next words. "Something that's nearly impossible to find, on the other hand, happens to be my speciality." She motioned to the sofa and Tom sat down, his hands resting on his knees as he listened to her. "I'll try my best, Tom, but I need to know, what do you want with the Cave Scrolls?"_

_"I think they hold something I could use," Tom corrected her. "I've heard stories... soldiers from the Middle East __used to tell__ stories about hidden scrolls, stolen from libraries, hidden to keep secrets safe-" _

_"I know Tom, but why do you want to go to the trouble to find one of these hidden__... they might as well be__ library books?"_

_"Think Marla, they were hidden for a reason. Imagine you lived in the __Kidron__ Valley- a small isolated community-__" he__ put emphasis on 'isolated', "and suddenly an army of Romans are invading your lands and exploiting your resources. Imagine it, Marla, what would those people want to protect so much, they hid any written proof of it."_

_Marla frowned, deep in thought. "If you are talking about magic..."_

_Tom's eyes widened- "Of course I'm talking about magic! It all fits- an isolated community, the secrets, hiding their knowledge... imagine what it could mean for us to unearth the magical secrets of an ancient lost generation of witches and wizards!"_

_Marla was uneasy by his eagerness. "Tom," she said slowly, "I think you are getting ahead of yourself. We don't know if they still exist or what's written in them. They might be anything- lists of weapons, religious texts being kept safe, an ancient sheep tally- we don't know, Tom, if they still even exist."_

_Tom suddenly smiled at her words and a maniacal look reached his eyes. "I do." He said simply. __"A few years ago, 1947 I think, a Bedouin shepherd was murdered after claiming he had found a whole bunch of scrolls in a hidden cave.__ The locals said demons killed him."_

_Marla leaned towards Tom, intrigued. "Let me guess," she said, "green light and he was dead?" Tom sat back and gave her a winning smile._

_"Isn't it almost too convenient?" he asked, grinning._

_"Valley of what, did you say?"_

_Tom smirked- "__Kidron__ Valley," he said getting up and donning his travelling cloak, "Broomsticks or __Floo__?"_

_Marla fastened her own travelling cloak, broomstick already under one arm. "I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer," she replied tersely, and they left under cover of darkness._

ooo

There was a knock at the door.

Marla hesitated before asking loudly, "Who is it?" The door creaked open and Abraxas walked in slowly, closing the door behind him. Marla sat in the window seat and motioned for him to sit down. He perched on the edge of her bed, facing her, for once seeming unsure of himself.

"Yes?" Marla asked, pointedly.

Abraxas studied her. "I came to apologise," he said brusquely, "for letting what happened affect our work. The assignment was ours to do together and I..."

"You made it quite clear you didn't want to work with me at all." Marla finished for him. She folded her arms and noticed he looked oddly blank, as though he was forcing himself to do something he didn't want to do. "The Dark Lord put you up to this?" she sneered.

"No." Abraxas said quickly, "Just me."

Sighing, she leaned back against the window. "I don't know what your problem was, Malfoy." She said, glaring at him. He recoiled slightly.

"You wouldn't understand." He said gruffly, and began to pace. "It's not a normal job, this- what we do- it'll just get more dangerous. The Dark Lord won't be able to protect us all the time. You have to be clever- you have to be shrewd-"

"-what has that got to do with anything? With me?" Marla demanded, anger growing, but Abraxas's eyes flashed. She gave him a moment and he continued.

"I've spent a long time establishing my place here, Marla." He said quietly, "I can't be seen to have weaknesses or attachments. Neither can you." He paused, then drew out two cigarettes, lighting one for Marla too. She took it hesitantly. "It looks like everything is fine now- but sooner or later there will be dispute within our ranks. It happened at Hogwarts, it's happened with Lowman before, its happened with friends who are now no longer with us... for a reason!" He studied Marla. "When you sign up to a cause like ours, you have to be selfish. It goes with the territory. You make one alliance with the Dark Lord because he can lead us to greatness... to the power and magic and potential we've always been told to repress. That's it Marla. On all other counts, you have to be selfish."

Marla nodded in understanding. They finished their cigarettes in silence. Marla made Abraxas and herself a drink from the side table and he sat, looking visibly more comfortable than before.

"You've no other responsibilities then Abraxas?" Marla asked, watching him drain his glass. He shook his head and she understood that he had given up much more than she had for the Dark Lord. She had given up a job and a flat- Abraxas had given up a life.

She sat down next to him on the bed. He flinched at her close proximity and moved to get up. She stood with him, pulling herself close to him as he pushed her away by her arms, a look of exasperation on his face. "Marla, what are you doing?" he asked, staring at her in disbelief, still clutching her at arms length. She reached out a hand to his face and the other to his waist, pulling herself in. "I'm being selfish," she whispered before kissing him deeply.

She felt his resolve melt as he hesitated. They broke apart and he looked at her, sad acceptance in his eyes. She led him to the bed and climbed on top of him as he lay down, enjoying the renewed sense of power he had instilled in her. Her kisses trailed down his torso as she undressed him, and he closed his eyes in complete submission.

_**That**__**'s it for Chapter Six- reviews are pleaded for! How do you feel the story is developing? Thank you for sticking with Marla and her journey- see you in Chapter Seven! **_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**Welcome to Chapter Seven, readers. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my truly wonderful and helpful reviewers.**_

_**Obsidian Sage: Thank you very much for the 'well written' comment- honestly, there is no greater compliment! I'm so glad you like the feel of this story- I loved writing it. I hope you keep reading and that the later chapters don't end up disappointing you!**_

_**Jadzania**__**: I'm very pleased that you like Marla- I'm aware new characters are hard to warm to. As for Marla and Voldemort, my intention was to develop their previous relationship as a series of flashbacks throughout the story, in a bid to show Marla's continual infatuation with that lost 'bond' (not quite a bond as Voldemort wouldn't let himself get attached to anybody) and her determination to regain the closeness she misses so much. You mentioned the Death Eaters- **__**Macnair**__**, Crabbe and Malfoy are wizarding names that we recognise- Abraxas is Draco's grandfather, Crabbe is Vincent Crabbe's grandfather, and **__**Macnair**__** is the father of Walden **__**Macnair**__**, who was assigned to be **__**Buckbeak's**__** executioner. Avery and Lestrange are away with Lord Voldemort with Wormtail-like occupations- they don't feature much in my story. **__**As for the others... you'll just have to wait to find out! Thank you and keep reading!**_

_**H. Merrill: Oh I do appreciate the Gatsby link! That was exactly what I was going for without even realising it. For anyone who hasn't read "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, if you look up Gatsby's infatuation with Daisy, it perfectly mirrors Marla's infatuation with Voldemort. Excellent observation!**_

_**SaintRidley**__**: Thanks for the spelling correction- I will aim to have the **__**McNairs**__** changed to **__**Macnairs**__** as soon as possible. I also hadn't heard JK's stance on Voldemort and the Patronus- I'll put it down to creative licence though I'll keep privilege to a minimum. I'm not one to argue with canon! Hope you stick with the story and keep reviewing!**_

_**I guess I ought to apologise for the awfully long author's note: enjoy Chapter Seven!**_

**Chapter Seven- The Wrong Hands**

Lord Voldemort had left the next morning and as Abraxas and Marla entered the drawing room, they could see apprehension in the faces of the Death Eaters gathered there. Abraxas glanced at Marla before joining the others who, she noticed, were looking up resentfully expectantly at her.

"What?" she asked warily, eyes narrowed.

Locke rolled her eyes and sneered at Marla. "We're under you , Voltaire- what do you want?" Marla started, realising what Voldemort's absence meant for her.

"Oh," she said, looking to Abraxas for prompting, but he folded his arms and perched on the side table. Eye's widening, she fumbled in her robes for a cigarette. "A light wouldn't go amiss." She suggested. Abraxas waved his wand lazily and her cigarette was lit. "Right," she said, gaining confidence rapidly, "Right, Lowman, you know all about the Azkaban ... mission... assignment, right?"

"-Ehem," Marla look up at the sound of Abraxas clearing his throat. "I do," Abraxas interjected.

"Good. Fill Lowman in please, Malfoy." Marla looked around at everyone else. "What do you all want?"

Macnair, Lowman and Crabbe exchanged dark glances, leaving Marla feeling suddenly out of her depths. "Do you want us to go to work or do we stay and plan the assignment?" Lowman asked pointedly. Marla sighed.

_This isn't what I signed up for,_ she thought.

"Do you know what?"she asked, looking around the room, "I don't care. Abraxas fill everyone in, then you can all go to work if you want to. Malfoy, plan the assignment. Use Lowman's information where necessary. Everyone else, do what you want. You're not going to be missed." She threw her cigarette stub into the fire and stalked to the pantry to find a house elf. Lowman followed her as the others left the Manor to Apparate.

Marla turned around at the footsteps, registering Lowman's presence. "Shouldn't you be with Malfoy?" she asked pointedly. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. For someone Marla had pegged as being rule abiding and orderly, Lowman's behaviour had her suddenly wary. "What do you want, Lowman?" she asked.

Lowman picked his words carefully. "I was wondering if I could help with the planning." He said, smiling nervously at Marla but she saw right through the facade. She shook her head.

"You have to keep the Minister under your control, I think that's a big enough responsibility, don't you Lowman?"

Lowman frowned. "I'm the one who knows everything about the protection around Azkaban, Voltaire. I did all the research. I risked my job and my neck for that information. I deserve to be part of the planning." He was shouting now.

"Malfoy plans, you babysit the Minister." She said calmly, but her palms were clammy and her heart rate raised. She reached discreetly for her wand.

Lowman scoffed. "Didn't seem so negative about babysitting the Minister yesterday, did you Voltaire?" he sneered. Marla ignored him so he carried on. "Tell me, I'm _babysitting_, Malfoy plans... what will you be doing?"

Marla's face grew hot as her temper rose. "I will be carrying out Lord Voldemort's orders," she shouted, "As should you be!"

Lowman's expression changed at the mention of Lord Voldemort's name and he became subdued. Marla's anger escalated and she drew out her wand. "Go to work, Lowman. Follow my orders. Never question me, do you understand?" Lowman nodded and left the room, his face distorted into an ugly expression.

Marla glared around the room for a house elf. "Elf!" she cried, and one appeared before her.

"Yes, ma'am?" it asked, looking at the floor.

Marla hesitated, no longer feeling hungry. She drew out a cigarette. "Get me a light." she mumbled, distracted.

ooo

Marla found Abraxas in the drawing room alone later that day. He was pouring over scrolls of parchment adorned with the Ministry crest. He glanced over at her and put down his quill.

"I was looking for you before," he said, "after Lowman told me what you said." Marla raised an eyebrow. "Where were you?"

Marla had spent the rest of the morning searching the dusty cupboards and closets of Hephzibah's Manor. Her episode with Lowman had left her feeling disjointed so she had retreated to her comfort zone. Lord Voldemort had clearly removed everything of magical significance and Marla made a mental note to enquire after their location but he had left some interesting valuable and historical artefacts- artefacts that were now charmed to invisibility in Marla's bedchamber.

"Well, anyway," Abraxas continued at her silence, "he's given me all the information I need so I'm ready to begin. I was wondering if you knew the extent of our resources."

"It's just us." She replied simply, "No one else, no weapons- wizards with wands."

Abraxas nodded. "Then we don't have a chance in hell." He rubbed his temple, reminding Marla strongly of Lord Voldemort.

"We've been up against worse." She said, distracted.

"We haven't!"

Marla frowned at Abraxas. "No- I mean the Dark Lord and I- we've been up against worse." Something flashed behind Abraxas's eyes and he turned back to the parchment.

"Abraxas, get us a strategy that means a few of us will come out alive and I'll sort out the rest, ok?" Abraxas nodded and began scribbling furiously.

Marla left the room.

ooo

_"I can't travel anymore tonight, Tom." Marla mumbled, half asleep. They were walking through a deserted market place, broomsticks transfigured and safely stowed away. It had become suddenly cold at dusk and a desert wind had found its way into the walls of the old city. Tom glanced at her half closed lids and sighed. _

_"Ok," he said, pointing to a narrow door across the street. It was accompanied by a grubby plaque that read '__Riad__Marak__'. "There's a hostel there."_

_They walked across the dusty street and tried the handle. It was locked. Tom banged loudly on the door as Marla wrapped her travelling cloak tightly around her. A small boy answered the door __and started speaking rapidly in Arabic. Tom pushed past him into the narrow tiled corridor that lead to a makeshift reception area in front of a wall of brass keys. The boy began shouting loudly and a robed, greying man hobbled in. His yellow eyes studied the couple._

_The young boy began speaking to him quickly and the old man nodded, never taking his eyes off Tom. He plucked a key from the back wall, __then__ held out his hand. _

_"He wants paying," Marla nudged Tom. __Tom took out his money bag__ and pretended to place something in the old man's outstretched palm. Marla __Confounded__ him discreetly. The man gave them the key and signalled for them to follow the young boy to their room._

_They locked the door behind them as they entered the shabby room. The low bed was covered in brightly coloured but dusty blankets and the badly fitted windows let in a cruel draught. Tom fixed it with his wand and turned to Marla who was __dusting off the sheets on the bed__ He watched her in silence, before turning down the gas lamps and removing his travelling cloak._

_"We'll stay only till-" he began but Marla had climbed under the sheets, still fully dressed and Tom strongly suspected she was already asleep. He __removed his shoes__ and joined her._

_ooo_

_The next morning, __Marla__ woke Tom up. She had washed and brought up food from downstairs. _

_"Food, Tom," s__he said, pushing the window open slightly and peering outside. It was still very early and though the sun had not yet fully come up, the Moroccan traders were already setting out their merchandise. She walked back over to the bed and picked up a__ crusty__ bread roll. He was sat up, listening intently. _

_"We've got two weeks before we have to be back in London," she reminded him, "so we have to find the Cave Scrolls and something for Borgin." Tom looked up from his breakfast. "I was thinking," she continued, "after we've found the Scrolls and you've read them, why don't we hand them-" but Tom had anticipated her suggestion._

_"We aren't given them to Borgin, Marla," he said darkly, "__they' re__ mine." _

_Marla fell __quiet,__ and she ripped apart her bread roll a little more roughly than was necessary. "Tom," she finally started, but he put his hand up to stop her._

_"If you're worried about your job, you go off and find something, but only after we have the scrolls."_

_"__Oh, come on__," Marla said, exasperated, "You've only been with us for four months, and you're risking your job, Tom?" She could see he was getting restless with her questions but her temper was rising. Her job was all she had, and here she was risking it for Tom on a whim. Knowing better than to lose her temper around Tom, she reasoned with him. "I got us this field time off Borgin with the promise we'd bring back something valuable. Please __Tom,__ I'll lose my job if we don't bring back something good." _

_Tom studied her and nodded. "You're right, Marla," he __finally __said, "__I appreciate your assistance- I really do__. I'll find __you __something of value__- but only AFTER we find the S__crolls." He smiled at her slightly before pushing away his breakfast__ at the sound of the crowds outside getting louder__. "Let__'__s go before it gets too busy to Apparate discreetly."_

_Marla rolled her eyes. "We can't Apparate far, Tom, without risking being tracked by international authorities." They had de__cided to travel unofficially to avoid suspicion from the Magical Ministries. Tom got out of bed and __yawned, seemingly distractedly_

_"I know. W__e'll Apparate to the Moroccan border and fly out of Africa over the mountains. We'll reach the valley by nightfall if we're quick." He smiled convincingly at Marla who shrugged._

_"If you say so, Tom, but on your head be it if we get stopped at border control."_

_He grinned at her. "I'd like to see them try."_

_ooo_

Marla ran down the stairs of Hephzibah Manor calling out for Abraxas. He rushed into the hallway, looking alarmed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyeing her frantic state.

Marla grabbed him by the arms. "I know how we can get into Azkaban." She smirked at him, a maniacal expression spreading over her face. "I know how we can get our charges out!"

_**Review time- did you hate it? Did you like it? Are you completely confused? Hope to hear from you, my much loved readers! All reviews are helpful, appreciated and personally replied to!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

_**I've an apology to make- it's been a horribly long wait for this chapter and the truth is**____** it's ended up being a lot harder to edit this story than I had originally anticipated. Nevertheless, **__**thankyou**__** for sticking with it and enjoy. **_

_**Thank you to **__**Mithrellas**__**- glad you're enjoying it- am mortified about the typos. **_

_**Thanks Visionary- obviously can't give the story away but stick with it!**_

_**Thank you Dark ass- confused in a good way I hope! And Abraxas and Marla's relationship **__**is a clue for things to come...**_

**Chapter Eight- Breaking Ranks**

Marla paced up and down the line up. Lowman, Locke, Abraxas, Crabbe and Macnair stood facing her, awaiting her decision.

"Crabbe," she said, stopping to face his distorted figure. "Your role as an Enforcer will finally be useful." She grinned at him and he shrunk into himself slightly. "You will find yourself escorting the next group of prisoners to Azkaban."

"But, they don't let me-" he started but Marla hushed him.

"Lowman will see to it that you will lead the group." She said glancing at Lowman who nodded reluctantly. "I want the Minister there too, Lowman." He nodded again.

"Perfect," she said to herself. "Macnair, Locke and Malfoy- I want you to take care of our dementor friends when we're in."

Locke scoffed. "And _how_ do you suppose we get in?" Marla stopped and turned to her.

"Tut tut, Locke, impertinence." She smiled a sickly smile. "Don't you have faith in Lord Voldemort's deputy?" Abraxas shifted uncomfortably at this but ceased at a glare from Marla. "Our entry will be simple..." she looked around to make sure she had everybody's attention. They were hanging off her every word. Enjoying the momentary power, she continued. "The Minister and Crabbe will let us in."

Locke scoffed again. "And what, the guards will happily let us stroll around the prison, Or do you suppose we duel all of them?"

"Be quiet and let her finish." It was Abraxas who had spoken. Marla nodded at him appreciatively but he avoided her gaze.

"Duelling? There won't be any duelling. You will follow orders and we will leave triumphant."

She smiled at the group, folding her arms, awaiting a reaction. The Death Eaters stared aghast at her. Her smile faded slightly.

"What?" she asked, concerned.

Lowman shook his head at her. "So, I'm assuming I distract the wizarding guards with the Minister? I expect you will want me to suggest a spot check?"

"Yes," Marla answered, "Malfoy says you claimed that Ministry officials do this sporadically."

"Yes they do," Lowman said, waving away this point, "but the dementors stay in their positions. There are dementors stationed at each level. How on earth are you-"

"It's all sorted," Marla snapped impatiently, "Macnair, Locke and Malfoy will provide them with souls. They won't be able to resist."

"Whoa," Macnair cut in, "You're going to give us to the-"

"No, fool," Marla sneered, "You'll be doing the feeding, not acting as the fodder!"

The Death Eaters exchanged uneasy looks at this. Patience waning rapidly, Marla stared at them expectantly. "What?" she asked again.

Crabbe shifted uncomfortably in his seat before asking "Who are we giving to the dementors?"

At this Marla smiled, her eyes flashing. "Ah," she sighed, "you'll like this- I'd say, a class of Muggle school-children wouldn't be too hard to- ah- convince to join us."

Silence.

Abraxas walked over to Marla and stood by her side, facing the group. "Any questions?" he asked, expertly hiding the unease in his voice. The Death Eaters shook their heads and Abraxas turned on his heel to the entrance hall, motioning for Marla to do the same.

ooo

"Do you realise this will never work?" he hissed at her in the hall.

"It will, I have a feeling about it," she replied, annoyed at his lack of support. "I know there are a few grey areas but we'll sort them out, okay? It'll work, so long as everyone follows orders."

Abraxas bit his tongue and looked away. Marla touched his arm, reassuringly but he shrugged her away. "Is there any point in me picking holes in your suicidal plan?" he asked, and a dark look spread over his face. Marla started, taken aback.

"No," she snapped, defensively, "no there isn't." She studied him as his face once again became blank. "You could help me iron out the kinks..." she suggested.

He nodded dispassionately. "I will," he stated, "but for now, excuse me." With that, he turned and left through the front door, robes billowing behind him.

ooo

Abraxas burst into Marla's room that night. She looked up from her work alarmed. He strode over to her and wrenched the Ministry documents from her hand.

"Hey, for god's sake, Abraxas, what're you doing?" she asked, lunging for the pieces of parchment and missing.

He moved across the room to slam the door shut. "This is insanity," he yelled at her.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Fine, okay," she said finally, "If you can do better, lets hear it."

"Not the plan," he snapped, throwing the documents to the floor. "You! What you're doing!"

Marla looked at him appalled. "What on earth do you mean?"

"You can't join the Death Eaters then expect everybody to trust you, Marla! No one trusts you! They're uniting against you. It's far too dangerous for us to even attempt the Azkaban assignment with this sort of unrest within ranks."

"If Lord Voldemort says they have to listen to-" Marla started but Abraxas cut across her.

"Don't say his name." He hissed, seething.

"There's no reason they'll disobey orders." Marla reasoned, still startled.

Abraxas scoffed at this. "No qualifications, no experience in government..."

"I'm a treasure hunter!"

"That means 'thief' to everyone else, Marla!"

"But He was one too!"

"THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE DARK LORD!" Marla saw Abraxas finally loose control and it terrified her. She expected him to curse her, throw something- react as Lord Voldemort always did when something got in the way of him and his artefacts. She did not expect him to bite his tongue and turn away. "I can't protect you forever," he said, wearily. "there's only so much influence I can have on them." He collapsed in the nearest armchair looking defeated, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "Marla, we can't attempt such an undertaking with instability like this- we'll all end up in Azkaban."

Marla hazarded a grin. "I was hoping as much," she said but became solemn at his expression.

His words struck a chord with her. What did she need protecting from? And was it not Lord Voldemort himself who had uttered such a similar statement?

_"__We're on the brink of a war and if you don't accept m__y authority, I can't protect you."_

"What do I need protecting from?" she asked, growing wary but Abraxas merely shook his head.

"From yourself, stupid fool."

Marla shrugged his comment off. "Hardly."

"All this talk of giving children to the dementors- they are wondering where you're coming from- I'm wondering where you're coming from."

Marla, taken aback, strode towards him. "I'm doing my job, Abraxas!" she cried, "The job HE gave me!" Abraxas stood up abruptly. "The job he gave us." Marla corrected herself weakly. She shrunk under Abraxas's apparent anger.

"You are going to kill us all." He watched as she turned her back on him and learned over the roaring fireplace.

"I'm doing the best I can- the best I know how..." she said to the fireplace.

Abraxas closed his eyes and composed himself. He moved to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She leaned back into him, finding comfort in his warmth. She moved into his embrace, burying her face into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and they stood for a moment, both finding comfort in each others presence.

OOO

_Marla pulled away from Tom, ensuring he didn't see her face._

_"How do you feel?" he asked, concerned. Marla didn't know. She flexed her fingers and tried to walk unaided._

_"Fine," she lied after a moment, voice horribly strained._

_"Can you Apparate?" He glanced at her as she blinked slowly, trying to regain vision._

_"I... I don't know." The words came difficultly as the curse wore off. _

_Tom gripped her arm and she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Her head rushed as they Apparated back to the hillside._

_ As her eyes adjusted to the new surroundings, she saw it was darker at this side of the peaks. The sun had set and foreign constellations littered the sky. _

_"They must have known we were magical." Tom said to himself, letting her go and pacing. "Muggles... muggles they could have just Confounded or... They must have known we were magical."_

_Marla tried to nod in agreement but her stomach churned. "I need a minute, Tom."_

_"Of course," he muttered, distracted. _

_The __Crutiatus__ Curse had been more terrible than she could have ever anticipated. Without Tom's hurried wand work, she suspected she would have died from the pain. But of course, that was the beauty of the curse- no death. She shuddered and her stomach churned again._

_"We'll be better prepared next time," he comforted her. "They won't do it again."_

_"Yes, Tom," she managed, before slipping into half consciousness. She sensed his pacing stopping as he paused to acknowledge her state, recommencing when he was satisfied she wasn't in any real danger. _

_"We're Apparating to the village now, Marla," he said, heaving her up roughly. Her barely audible moan was enough for him and they disappeared into the night._

_**Chap 9 almost satisfactory- up soon )**_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK._

**_Thanks, lovely readers, hope you are enjoying this. Thank you Dark Phoenix-24, but you're only on chapter 2! Keep reading to uncover the actual plot! Also, thanks to those who've put me on their favourites list- am honoured._**

**Chapter Nine****- Doubt and Reason**

_"Tom, I'm going to get fired!" Marla repeated tersely as she watched Tom pace the__ir rented lodgings__. "Three weeks past the deadline Tom, I'm going to lose my job."_

_He __disregarded__ her. It seemed as though her inability to cope under the __Cruciatus__ Curse had caused her to deflate__ slightly__ in__ his opinion, though he had not mentioned the incident since__. Marla watched him, growing increasingly impatient. Night after night they had combed the hills under the __Disillusionment_ _Charm, never getting any closer to the Scrolls. _

_"They're there..." he had been muttering to himself, "I can feel them... I can feel the magic."_

_Again and again Marla had tried to reason with him to no avail. "You can't sense magic, Tom," she had __argue__d but he had protested continually._

_"I can," he said, over and over, "I can feel it."_

_It took another week for them to make a move on the scrolls. Tom had barely explained their strategy but urged her to follow his orders without question. Marla did not take to following orders blindly._

_"Damn it, Marla!" he had yelled at her, "Just do as I say. There is a magical block on the caves. I know it. Only the right sort of magic can penetrate it. We just need to find the key."_

_"How can you be sure?" she pleaded with him to explain but he refrained from doing so and __against her better judgement, __she once again fell back into silence._

OOO

For the next two weeks, the atmosphere at Hephzibah's manor was tense. Everybody, including Abraxas had their doubts as to the outcome of the raid on Azkaban but Marla's sudden short temper caused Abraxas's constant protests on the suicidal nature of her plan to cease. She spoke little to the others, preferring to spend most of her time pouring over the prison layout plans, creating back-up plan after back-up plan. Abraxas had stopped questioning her sanity, trusting that at the failure of her strategy, they could use brute force as a means to secure an exit.

"Marla," he said in the doorway of her bedchambers the night before the raid, "can I come in?"

Assured she wasn't in for another list of cautions, she nodded and he slowly closed the door behind him.

"I couldn't sleep." He said and she could hear the slur in his speech. He sat in an armchair by the fire, looking exhausted. Unsure of the unexpected nature of his visit, she watched as he summoned wine and glasses from the cupboard and made himself a drink.

"Been a while since we've done this, hasn't it?" he asked with forced levity. She eyed him warily, irritation growing at his flippant nature.

"To tomorrow night," he toasted weakly, and drained his glass. He refilled it as Marla moved to take the bottle from him.

"You're already drunk-"

"No," he said, cutting her off. "Yes- lets... lets just drink..." He lit a cigarette and drained his second glass.

"We're in charge, Abraxas," she snapped at him, "You and I! We need to be keeping on top of things, keeping planning, keeping-"

"I'll follow whatever you say, Marla," he shrugged, "might as well enjoy one last night of sanity before tomorrow's-"

Fuming, Marla strode over to the door and held in open for him. "Not in here, you don't! I don't know what's wrong with you but... I can't... I can't believe what you're becoming!"

"What I'm becoming?" yelled Abraxas, throwing his cigarette into the fire, "Is this not what you want from me? For me to agree with every desperate plan you dream up?"

"No," she said, exasperatedly, "From you, I just want..." Marla trailed off, but Abraxas understood.

Abraxas scoffed. "You lost that when you took over this assignment. You're your own worst enemy, Voltaire." His cold tone hit her like ice and she glared pointedly away. As he was leaving, he slowed down as he walked past her and for a moment she thought that... perhaps... maybe his hand had flinched towards hers... but he strode out without a glance back leaving Marla with pangs of loneliness for the first time since before she had arrived at Hephzibah's manor.

OOO

Marla didn't sleep well that night. She eventually gave up and made for the pantry downstairs, but even the thought of food did little to stop her mind racing. She knew she ought to think of their looming venture but Abraxas's behaviour had unsettled her. Something had changed in Abraxas and she didn't know what.

When she had met him, he had seemed haughty and cold but he had quickly become a good friend. His intellectual level mirrored hers and they shared genuine esteem for Lord Voldemort. It was true, she envied the proximity he had with the Dark Lord and believed that the position at Lord Voldemort's side was rightfully hers, but as a competitor, Abraxas was a worthy one.

The man she had admired and grown close to had now inexplicably become... different. She had noticed his drinking, his short temper and his constant air of discontent. He always seemed tired now and constantly despondent. She did not appreciate his change in demeanour and ardently wished her friend back, if not for the conversation then for the company they had become accustomed to enjoying together. And most of all, despite her resentment of his talent at leading, she knew she needed him as their General, as their most ruthless and focused Death Eater- and she didn't feel safe without him.

OOO

_"I've worked it out." Tom whispered as they stood in front of yet another ordinary looking __rocky steep._

_Marla looked up from the patch of rock __on which __she had sat, watching his __Disillusioned__ form__ for the past hour. "What did you say?" she asked, getting up awkwardl__y as her limbs had grown accustomed to immobility._

_"I've worked it out" he said, still examining the vast expanse of rock._

_Finally, thought Marla but she hid her __exasperation at his trait of unhurried inspection. She approached him eagerly, her eyes resting on the area on which he was fixated._

_"What?" she asked, glancing at __him.__ His eyes bore into the rock and her gaze fleeted from him to the seemingly unremarkable __vast stretch__ of __stone._

_"This is old magic, isn't it?" he asked, plunging his hand into his robe. Marla __had __expected him to draw out his wand but he withdrew a pack of cigarettes, offering Marla one. She took __it__ appreciatively and he lit his own and hers. "Old magic..." he repeated as Marla listened attentively, "Old magic would require an old form of payment to be revealed... yes... payment..."_

_Marla frowned. "No, Tom," she reasoned. "If it wanted a deserving __wizard, the wizards protecting it wouldn't be trying to prevent wizards from approaching it."_

_Tom nodded, deep in thought. "I considered that," he said, frowning, "but when we initially approached this area we were in full sight, and that's why they hexed us... you..."_

_"So what," Marla asked, confusion mounting, "Because we bothered to conceal ourselves for the past few weeks, they've let us carry on? Why would they?"_

_"That's just it," Tom said, "That must be why. They know we're looking for the Scrolls now. They know we haven't just wandered here by chance. They know-"_

_"-that we aren't tourists who might end up stumbling on the most important discovery in centuries with no concept of the power we'__re unleashing. They know we know exactly what we're looking for.__" Marla finished for him, completely in awe of what he was suggesting. "Then we just need to find these wizards and explain to them that..." but she trailed off, a new problem arising in her mind. "If it takes a wizard to find the scrolls, why would the wizards protecting it not have taken them ages ago?"_

_Tom looked at her, slightly exasperated. "Marla, they can't!" he said and Marla frowned. _

_"So..."_

_"So they are waiting for a wizard to come along who can!" __He explained. __Marla's eyes widened__, realising __a new __dilemma._

_"Shit, Tom!" she exclaimed, panic rising. "That means if we-" she looked around and began to whisper, paranoia setting in. "-if we find the Scrolls, we'll have a load of native wizards after us to claim them for themselves." Tom looked at her appalled._

_"Hadn't thought of that."__ Tom admitted through gritted teeth. "Shit."__ He tossed his cigarette stub aside. "Shit." He also began to whisper, a hollow expression adorning his handsome face. "What do we do?" _

_Marla __looked uneasy. "__I suppose we could resort back to my tried and tested methods of protection..."_

_Tom examined her with a reluctant grin. "What?"_

_But a smirk from Marla reminded him. "__Transfigure any opposition__ into rodents indefinitely. And with the two of us, it shouldn't be a problem- I don't think so anyway."_

_Tom scoffed __ruthlessly __and withdrew his wand. "Your charms wearing off, Marla," he sai__d, smirking in __mock annoyance and he recast the __Disillusionment__ Charm, shaking his head at her shoddy wandwork. _


End file.
